One Day, Someday, Your Day
by BlazingLegend
Summary: Where all the girls are in their lives before the events of the series. /short multichapter.
1. lovely little cleo

Cleo had been staring up at the ceiling long before the alarm went off.

But when it did, she tossed over and groaned anyway, just for the heck of it. She reached out, nimble fingers crawling over the display of _seven 'o clock, seven 'o clock, _and pressed it down.

She listened to the silence for a long moment, before kicking up her sheets and pulling herself upright onto her carpet.

She ran a hand through mussed curls, infected with the hearty disease of sleep. She sniffed, stretched, then yawned.

She heard her mother's shout through the door, muffled but still identifiable. Cleo hurried over to her closet and pulled on her thin dressing gown before plodding down the stairs to report for breakfast.

"Morning, sweetheart," Her mother greeted her with a small, quick kiss on the cheek before rushing off to pile bacon on somebody else's plate or fill a different glass with low pulp orange juice.

She sat herself down, staring into her plate and taking a sip of her drink. "So, a new year of school, Kimmy."

Kim glared at her, shoving eggs around with her fork, looking like she'd rather be stabbing it into Cleo. "How can you manage to sound _happy _and still say that?" she flicked a scrap of bacon fat at her sister while their mother wasn't looking, "And the name's not Kimmy."

Cleo dodged. "Oh, _sorry, _Ms. Bitterness and Malice. It's a little thing called optimism, you really should try it sometime."

Kim scoffed. "Mmm. Yeah, whatever."

Cleo rolled her eyes and laughed at her, small, so she couldn't hear it. She lifted a forkful of food into her mouth and turned to her mother, who was leaning over the bench scrubbing out some pots.

"Hey, Mum," she said, and the woman turned to blink at her. "Do you know how Dad went this morning?"

She shrugged. "Not really. I went back to sleep when he woke me getting up," she said. "But good, I'd think. You know how he loves his job." With that, she turned back to the counter, shutting off the conversation.

Cleo sighed, looking down into her half-finished plate of breakfast. "Yeah. I do."

Once the two sisters had finished their breakfast, their mother cleared the plates and ushered them upstairs to get dressed.

Kim gave her a small shove as she went off to her room, but Cleo simply snorted at her and walked into her own room.

There was a harsh ringing, and Cleo, having accounted for this, set her already prepared pile of clothes down to go retrieve her phone. "Hey, Em. How are you doing?"

"Oh my God, oh my _God_—"

How she could have expected less, escaped Cleo as she sighed into the phone and bounced down on her bed. "Cool it, Em. You're fine. Everything's fine."

"Everything's _not _fine. You may be an easy-going slacker, but Emma Gilbert is not, missy! What the hell am I going to do?!"

She brushed off the insult and shrugged. "What I do. Slack."

"Don't you be sarcastic with me, you—!"

"_Hold _it. Before you say something that will get you grounded with your parents, think through it. Breathe."

A pause. "Well, you're right. I _guess _swearing to the world really isn't an appropriate reaction to the situation."

"See? There. Now tell me what's happened."

"I've lost all my binders! Dad spilled _freaking coffee _on all my papers, and then—"

Cleo sighed. "Have you looked under your desk?"

Another pause. "... well, no."

"Go look."

There was a lot of shuffling, and then a very long pause, as Emma went to look where Cleo said.

Eventually she heard her voice again. "Oh God! You, Cleo Sertori, are a _goddess!_"

"I try."

XXX

Cleo met up with Emma by her new locker, shrugging her cardigan on and pulling her hair into a hairtie, because no matter how hard she'd planned—or tried to—she wasn't Emma, and even then it sounded like Emma had failed in her conquest for perfection.

Emma was now leaning against her own locker—right next to Cleo's—with her arms folded, her eyes slits and her legs bent at the ankles.

Cleo fiddled with her new lock, trying to get the feel of it.

"Look at 'em," she nodded to somewhere Cleo couldn't see, so she turned. Her gaze landed on a mass of students, pulling bags onto their shoulders, faces pulled down into weary and grim expressions. "Trudging to class as if prisoners to execution,"

Cleo snorted. Emma always had been poetic.

"They obviously don't plan."

Cleo rolled her eyes so Emma couldn't see and turned back to her locker. "Yeah. I'm sure that's it, Em."

Cleo finally got the hang of her lock and her locker door swung open, neat and shining and cleaned since the previous year. She piled her books and binders and stationary into it, trying to put them all in with care, but ending up kicking most of the stuff in.

Once she'd finished, she shoved it closed and leant against it with her eyes closed. "God. Another year."

Emma didn't answer as she'd expected her to. She looked over, and the girl's gaze seemed fixed, her mouth slightly ajar.

"Em—?" she said.

Then Emma leant over and yanked down on her sleeve, almost so hard it revealed her bra strap. She didn't seem to notice as Cleo said furious mutters under her breath.

She instead bent close and whispered, her breath hot against the side of Cleo's face, "Who's _she?_"

Cleo's own gaze floated to where Emma was looking, and she saw a young woman pulling her bag off the ground, screeching at the obviously _active _sprinklers while simultaneously swearing at the other people who were looking at her.

She had blonde curls, dripping and sticking to her face, and she combed a hand through them whilst also pulling at her soaked red t-shirt, seeming to completely ignore the torn and faded jeans now gripping her legs.

She let out another loud curse, then heaved her bag onto her shoulders and started walking away from the wreckage.

She walked straight past Emma and Cleo, who were now gaping. She glared at them, her nose bunched in distaste as she seethed, "What are you looking at, bitc—"

A teacher passed, eyes catching onto her, and she ducked her head and quickly walked off.

Emma blinked at Cleo. "Who is she?"

Cleo looked on after her as she shoved away a person who stared at her for too long.

"I have absolutely no idea."


	2. darling emma

Emma shrieked as she saw the steaming, dark liquid seeping through her papers.

But her dad just looked sheepish. Freaking _sheepish. _"What am I going to do—what am I going to—!" She screeched.

She felt a steady hand on her shoulder. "Cool it, Em. It's not the apocalypse. Calm down."

"Mu-um," Elliot whined. "Get her to stop," he said. He got up, walked over, and whacked Emma in the head with his spoon, leaving a sticky milk spot bang in the middle of her forehead. "Emma, stop flipping out. You're going supersonic again."

Thank God her mother caught her just as she was going for Elliot's throat.

"Go upstairs and sort yourself out." Her mother said. She turned to talk to Emma's father. "See, Neil, this is exactly what happens when you don't let her have her morning swim. You know how I hate it when she goes supersonic!"

XXX

Emma wailed into her phone. She didn't care if she was torturing Cleo's eardrums, she was _upset._

"Oh my God, oh my _God—_"

She could hear Cleo sighing into the phone. "Cool it, Em. You're fine. Everything's fine."

That's exactly what her parents had said. "Everything's _not _fine. You may be an easy-going slacker but Emma Gilbert is not, missy! What the hell am I going to do?!" She knew she was basically accusing Cleo of being a lazy good-for-nothing, but that's what best friends are for, right?

"What I do. Slack."

She was going supersonic again. "Don't you be sarcastic with me, you—!"

"_Hold _it. Before you say something that will get you grounded with your parents, think through it. Breathe."

Good. Because she had _definitely _been about to say one of the words that would have her paying her entire allowance into the swear jar.

She paused, she breathed. "Well, you're right. I _guess _swearing to the world really isn't an appropriate reaction to the situation."

"See? There. Now tell me what's happened." She was always so calm. Emma made a mental note to ask her how she did that.

"I've lost all my binders! Dad spilled _freaking coffee _on all my papers, and then—"

Another sigh from Cleo's end. "Have you looked under your desk?"

Emma's face soured. "… well, no."

And Cleo really must have been her best friend, because even though school hadn't started yet and she'd already given the brunette an entire year's worth of sighs just in the last five minutes, she didn't actually sound annoyed. "Go look."

Emma threw the phone down and crawled over to peer underneath her desk. She scrabbled for the phone again. "Oh God! You, Cleo Sertori, are a _goddess!_"

"I try."

XXX

Emma had proceeded through the rest of the morning quite happily. Well, of course aside from the five minutes spent scowling in front of the mirror as she cleaned off the milk spot her darling brother had given her as some sort of first day present.

She had already spent her own ten minutes worth of muddling through her locker and jamming stuff in such a way it wouldn't flood out every time she opened it.

She spotted Cleo walking in and ran up to her. "I am in love with you."

"I hate to remind you, sweetheart, but I'm a girl." She paused. "A _straight _girl."

"Yes, yes, Lewis is enough proof of that—" She shrieked and ducked as Cleo swung a binder at her, "But nevertheless, I adore you. What can I do to make it up to you?"

Cleo's face crumpled into a cringe. "Try not to go supersonic for an entire day?"

"Deal!—wait, what?"

"Pleeease?"

They both knew that wouldn't last, not in a million years. "Something else?"

Cleo pouted. "Keep Zane and the dweeb team off my back?"

Emma winked. "_That _I can do."

They were now back at their lockers and Emma was watching Cleo suffer through her own ordeal with christening her locker.

"Look at 'em," she said, and Cleo turned after a second. She watched as the other students milled about, with sleepy, unhappy faces and drooping shoulders. "Trudging to class as if prisoners to execution,"

Cleo snorted, and Emma glared at her.

"They obviously don't plan."

If Emma hadn't known better, she would say Cleo was laughing at her. "Yeah. I'm sure that's it, Em."

She watched as Cleo eventually closed her locker, leant back against it, and moaned, "God. Another year."

But by this time she wasn't listening anymore, rather keeping her eyes trained on a _fascinating _example of teenage hormones as it trudged across the lawn and swore at the sprinklers.

Emma yanked down on Cleo's sleeve to get her attention, and ignored as Cleo muttered swears at her beneath her breath. She leant in close to Cleo's ear. "Who's _she?_"

Now Cleo was just as interested as she was. She had blonde curls, sticking to her face from the water, a blood red top obviously used as some poor attempt at being 'emo,' although one look at this girl could say you didn't need the clothes to prove it. She pulled at her shirt and screamed at all the people gaping at her—probably because by now it was _evident _she wasn't wearing a bra—and started walking over to them.

She shoved people out of her way and shot death glares at Emma and Cleo. "What are you looking at, bitc—"

A teacher walked past, eyeing her, and her face quickly spread into one with only docile intentions. She ducked her head and scuttled off.

When the teacher's back was turned she started pushing people again.

Emma blinked at Cleo. "Who is she?"

Cleo looked back, just as shocked. "I have absolutely no idea."


End file.
